A Child that was Never a Child
by madwriter223
Summary: Alastor Moody's thoughts after the end of the war. No spoilers. A little gore, mention of character death.


**A Child That Was Never a Child**

I'm standing at the foot of his bed, gazing at his still form. Albus, you have never looked so old. The sight would most probably make a lot of people cry if they saw you now, petting his head, holding his hand. In fact, it looks like you're about to cry yourself.

I remember the day he disappeared. You were so worried about him, pacing your office as you waited for him to return from his latest summoning. I never could understand then why you worried so. It wasn't like he had any other meaning except being our spy.

I remember the owl that suddenly appeared on your windowsill, scratching loudly at the glass. You rushed to it, hoping probably that it was from him. It wasn't and it was.

We both frowned when the fat grey bird simply dropped the parcel it carried to the ground, flying away as soon as it was free of its delivery. I guess the bird's behavior was the first sign that there was something wrong about the small brown package, but you were too worried to pay attention to subtleties.

I can still recall the horror on your face when you opened the box, and the sound of glass breaking as the 'gift' dropped from your suddenly limp fingers. A vial with a round object inside rolled out of the package, and I probably paled myself when I recognized the eye that seemed to constantly glare at me in the past. At that moment I could've sworn that it was still glaring, despite being obviously detached from the orbit it rested in just this morning.

It was a miracle none of us moved to pick the vial up. Albus, you probably wanted to cry over it, I wanted to hide it to spare you the pain. I almost sighed in relief when a house elf appeared to clean the mess, and I was doubly thankful we hadn't touched that gruesome object – it turned out to be a portkey, disappearing as soon as the small hands touched it, taking the elf with it.

I don't think you noticed that little fact though.

I watch you tugging the covers further up, covering the wounded body with the warm cloth. Your hand dances over his scalp, still petting softly. Your fingers brush a few black strands behind his ear, revealing a vicious looking scab on his temple and I wince at the sight. He's healing, Albus, don't worry. You don't seem to hear me, though, and you ever so gently brush the wound with your fingertips, the scab falling immediately off and showing the fresh pink skin underneath.

You were never one for waiting, Albus, despite your patient reputation. I bet you will heal every wound and scratch you'll find on him, just to spare him the pain.

He already knows pain, Albus. You can't change that, no matter how long you'll heal him with your magic. No one can.

I remember the day old Voldemort fell. You're a hero again, by the way, Albus. I doubt the Brat Who Lived would've managed to defeat him hadn't you crippled that bastard beforehand.

It was his gravest mistake it seems. He wore that eye around his neck like an emblem, a sign that no one could stop him. He flaunted the details of what he did, mocking your worry and pain, but I paid him no mind. I was too busy watching you tremble, and I was worried you'd break down then and there. You hadn't and you had.

I think no one thought it was even possible. I certainly hadn't. But the sight of you, overcome with rage instead of grief is one I will remember forever. Your eyes glowed, Albus, and for the first time I felt truly afraid. I'm sure our enemy was too, considering how half of his DeathEaters fled as you attacked.

I smile at your antics. Leave that pillow alone, Albus, it's soft enough. He's comfortable, warm, and healing, Albus. You needn't worry so. He's here now, and he's safe. There is no need for you to lose sleep anymore. Despite that, I know you won't rest before he wakes up. Or before Poppy bullies you into a bed.

I was the one who found him, Albus, do you remember? I was leading a small group of Aurors into the underground DeathEater base, the newest we managed to locate. There were many prisoners, victims of that madman, but he was the worst off, wasn't he?

If I close my eyes, I can still see his unmoving form on the cold ground of that hellhole.

He was curled up into a ball, trying to warm his naked body. Judging by the shivers he wasn't doing that good a job at it. His face was relaxed, and the one black eye was staring blankly ahead, fearing the dark that surrounded him in the cell, waiting for a new monster to add even more wounds to his body, though I doubt they would have found an untouched piece of skin on him even if they looked for a week.

It was the first time I saw what you've always seen, Albus.

When I found him, bruised and damaged, I failed to see the DeathEater I always saw when I looked at him. Instead I saw a child. A scared child, a scarred child, a child that needed protection though it would never ask for it. A child that was never a child.

I was so entrance by the sight, that for the first time I forgot about 'Constant Vigilance'.

Look, Albus. His only eye is open, gazing at you in confusion. You laugh, and kiss his forehead, squeezing his hand.

You see Albus? It's fine now, he's awake.

I don't think others will understand. They're already wondering what's gotten into you. They all expected you to be with your Golden Boy, beaming with pride at the Boy Who Lived Twice and offering lemon drops to everyone. Instead you sat by his side, your eyes regaining that infuriating twinkle only when he opened his own.

You can go, Albus, I'll stay and watch him for you. I know you won't though. You haven't let go of his hand, and I doubt you will any time soon. I wouldn't either.

You'll celebrate the Fall of the Dark later. You'll check on Potter later. You'll grief over your long time friend who died protecting your most precious child later.

Right now you're too busy rejoicing over the fact that your child is alive. Alive despite all he's been through.

His eye moves towards where I stand, and I swear he's looking at me. I know that's impossible, my spirit won't become visible to others for a long time still. But I think he knows I'm here. He knows I died while I was taking him to you, Albus.

I move towards him, and let my presence wash over him.

I know now, Severus. I know of the vulnerable child you are. I know, and I'll stay for some time.

He's safe and alive, Albus. I think there is nothing more important than that right now. But I think you know that already.

And don't hug him so tightly, you'll reopen his wounds.


End file.
